Stoving over a Hot Slave

Moving slowly into the second day of real holiday, I had one of those days where you never stop working.
I slaved over a hot stove, nose to the grindstone, hard at work up my crane bringing home the bacon while burning the candle at both ends. In fact I worked harder than those lovely people Mike and Angelo who painted sixteen chapels.
I played on the X-box. I played on the tablet. I was just about to go out and post a parcel of assorted Pokémon cards to an ebay customer up north when lunch got in the way so I couldn't. Jof discovered earplugs so I could watch rubbish Minecraft videos while she watched her program and we didn't even have to talk to each other.
I got quite miffed when it was gymnastics time but I'm happy to read Danny the Champion of the World in the car and then it was fun-day at the gym where parents are allowed in. I begged him not to go on a 6-mile run up the hill and he sat on a bench for only 35 minutes while we warmed up and then it was fun-time and we battled with foam in the pits and swung off the rings and trampled the trampoline and it was epic.